My name is Lori Johnstone, I am 37 years of age. I am blessed to have an exceptionally supportive husband, Jason and two children, Avery, age 10 and Evan, age 8. I have a degree in Psychology from Dalhousie University in Halifax, NS, Canada. I stay at home with my kiddos and any chance I get, I work on my paranormal fiction novel and share quotes and quips with friends on facebook. I enjoy meditation on a daily basis and running keeps my energy at least up to half the level of my children's. You can find my blog at http://mamabear-livenwrite.blogspot.com/.target="_blank">http://mamabear-livenwrite.blogspot.com/.

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Nostalgia has gripped me this year, and I am not sure I’ll break free from the onslaught of memories. They will continue to come, like the constant drip of a leaky faucet. I cherish them as they help me to remember what is most important when the threat of holiday materialism overwhelms me.

The first memory came to me after observing our Christmas tree, a pre-lit tree we bought the first year we celebrated in our newly built home in 2005. The very top portion of the tree isn’t lit anymore. I watched from the couch a few weeks ago as the lights glowed brighter and brighter and then fizzled out with a zap. I wondered if we should get a real tree next year, and I realized how much I had been missing that experience.

Growing up in Nova Scotia, my family always had a real tree. Like Chevy Chase and crew, we would all head out to select it and make a big deal of it (though in our teen years it would be just my Dad).

Unlike Chevy Chase, we didn’t have to drive out in search of the countryside. It was our backyard. You could always tell when my Dad found the tree he wanted-he would have a dreamy look in his eyes. The tree itself probably even recognized it was a goner. His tree would often resemble a Charlie Brown tree, and if we scoffed at it, we had to admit that any tree small enough to fit inside of our house-the majority were far too big-was going to be a scrawny tree. We loved it anyway.

There were other laughable traditions, such as the church service we would attend every year called “The Hanging of the Greens”. It was especially significant to my family, as my birth name is Green. Though it was the butt of jokes yearly, we soaked it up, never getting tired of the goofiness of it all. “Green family, I’m sorry to hang you like this,” the pastor would say. Okay, so maybe after ten years it was slightly less hilarious.We embraced it anyway.

The weather was hard to deal with where I grew up. Nova Scotia itself can be found attached to the continent by a tiny part, the rest surrounded by water, as if it were deciding whether to make the break totally and float off into the Atlantic Ocean. Freezing rain and black ice were common driving companions. My Dad referred to the area of lakes where we lived as the "snow belt”.

Even the townies, who also experienced nasty weather, thought we were crazy to live where we did. We lived twenty minutes from town, our driveway snaking a quarter of a mile around a picturesque lake. When we had a large snowfall-which we did several times a winter-we would get cutoff from the main road. It came down to who you know regarding snow-removal, and we were very low on the list.

The result was Green-Frost ingenuity. My parents rigged up a sort of dog sled that attached to our snowmobile and we would drive that in and out to the main road. My mother would stand on the back part of the sled and my sister and I would sit on the inside part surrounded by our groceries and other belongings. At night, we attached a lantern to the handles where my mom stood. This admission probably won’t do the Canadian cause any good since we are trying to convince the rest of the world that we don’t live in igloos. Apparently we do travel around on dog sleds (or did).

This lifestyle was simplistic in the way that there were very few desires and a tendency to be thankful for what you had and to enjoy the beauty of nature around you. I don’t focus on the times I didn’t receive what was on my Christmas list. My parents would remind us that we had each other, a roof over our heads and food and water. We had those basic necessities.

Now my standard of living and that of the rest of my family has largely improved. I am an adult with children and I find myself struck with the reality of being surrounded by excess. While I appreciate the relative ease of getting what I want and especially getting where I want, it is the simplicity that I crave the most. Part of me wants to be that little girl, in the family dog sled, carving out the snow like ghosts in the night with the howl of coyotes on the wind. These are the memories of my heart.

Though life is so different for me now at Christmas, I am going to do my best to instill memories with the same kind of spirit that my family did, as I remember being together truly was the best thing.

May you and your family find the joy of togetherness this season.

Learn more about the stunning town of Annapolis Royal, Nova Scotia; Annapolis Heritage SocietyExplore Annapolis Royal2004 title, “World’s most livable small community”